The Storyteller
by Clavyus
Summary: This is Brucas AU. Brooke is twenty nine, a celebrated fashion diva with a long time relationship with a Broadway producer. One day, she enters a bookstore and hears a young man reading a story to a group of children...
1. Chapter 1

: This is an AU Brucas story. Brooke is twenty eight, a celebrated fashion diva, with an ongoing relationship with a Broadway producer. One afternoon, under heavy rain, Brooke steps into a small bookstore, where a young man is reading aloud to a group of children...

Chapter 1

I end the call and give the phone a death stare. My jerk of a boyfriend canceled our plans the second time this week. "Christie!"

"Yes, m'am?"

"Cancel the limo. I'm walking home."

"But, m'am..."

"Just can it, girl. I'll see you tomorrow."

It's a fifteen block walk to my condo, which ordinarily I would avoid doing wearing high heels, but I need to blow off some steam. It's not just Flaky Julian. The whole day had been pretty frustrating, from a little mixup in a fabric shipment from China, to a fifteen minute call with a Hollywood princess, unhappy with the press of her last red carpet appearance. The stupid cow takes home a perfectly fitted dress, and then gains three pounds before wearing it.

Of course, as I leave the building, I find out it's raining. A late September rain, thin, steady and chilling. Go back for the limo, try for a cab or walk? It's walk. The rain is pretty thin, and I'm still needing to move. I pound the pavement, dodging umbrellas, keeping a hard stare ahead. I go two blocks up Third, getting bogged down by the foot traffic, then turn right, deciding to try my luck walking up Second. Halfway through the long block, the drizzle turns into an unmitigated downpour, and I squeeze under an awning. The awning belongs to a small bookstore, of all things. I decide to step inside, to kill some time while waiting on the rain.

I step inside, squeezing my hair, and a blonde teenager walks up to me. "Welcome to Pierce's Bookstore madam." She smiles and hands me a small towel. Impressed by the kind service I look around. It's an old fashioned store, a large central room, with the service desk and a cashier to one side, tall bookcases along the walls, stairs to a second floor and adjoining rooms. Although the place is fairly crowded, it's quiet, as if the books on the walls absorb some of the noise. In the background a clear voice can be heard, reciting something. I follow the voice to a large side room marked Children and Young Adults. In a corner of the room there's a small raised stage, where a young man is reading aloud to a group of children, maybe ten or so, either sitting of the floor or on small beanbags that are scattered around.

 _"Little Peter walked into the witch's house, trying to be very quiet. He was terrified of the old hag, but he knew, if he couldn't get the stone back, his family would be in a lot of trouble. Unfortunately, as he was walking slowly, looking to this side and that, he didn't notice the large black cat sleeping right in front of him. He didn't notice, of course, until he stepped in his long, scraggly tail... "_

The scream of the cat gives me a start, and several of the children scream as well. I can't avoid smiling. The young man is very good, talking slowly in a deep voice, pulling you right into the story. The storyteller briefly lifts his eyes from his book, and gives me a glance, and a little smile. He has intense blue eyes and short blonde hair. He appears to be young, maybe twenty-one or so.

I pull one of the bean bags and sit on it, leaning against a wall. He pulls me right back into the story, with his mesmerizing telling.

 _"The witch grabs Peter by the arm and drags him next to the fire, so she can see him better. She is old, and her eyes are not what they once were._

 _"What are you doing here, boy?"_

 _"Uh, uh well madam..."_

 _"Speak! Boy. Speak or I will tan your hide."_

 _Peter is not sure if that means a spanking, which would be more or less fine with him, or actually removing his skin and making a rug with him, which he wouldn't like one bit._

 _"Well, madam. My mother sent me to ask..."_

 _The witch laughs. "Don't lie to me boy!" Of course, no mother in this neighborhood would send a child to Old Meg's house. They come if they need a spell or a poultice, but they are all terrified of her, the fools._

 _"All right, m'am. I'm sorry. It's the stone..."_

As the story unfolds, I begin to realize this is no ordinary fairy tale. The characters are vivid and quirky, and the story unconventional. The storyteller makes amazing character voices. For the first time in the day, I feel myself begin to relax, and entranced by the story and the storytelling, my eyelids begin to feel heavy...

Madam, madam..."

I open my eyes and look around. The store seems empty. "Madam, we are about to close for the night."

I look I my watch. It's nine. I've slept more than four hours. "I'm sorry. It looks like I fell asleep."

"It's not a problem madam. But we are closing now."

"Thank you." I

I was sleeping on a small beanbag, leaning against a wall, and I feel more rested than I have felt in weeks. All the stress and anger of the day, gone.

"Who was the young storyteller?"

"I don't know, madam. He is a friend of the owner, I think. He comes, almost every Thursday, and reads for a couple of hours. He is wonderful, isn't he? There are kids who come every week, just to hear his stories."

I get home just to be confronted by an angry Julian. He speaks in a strained voice. "Where the fuck have you been?"

I give him a cool stare. "Moderate your tone, buster, or you're leaving." He is not going to spoil my mood.

He speaks again, this time in a more reasoned voice. "Sorry. I was worried. What happened to you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? I called and texted. Why didn't you answer?"

I pick up my phone from my purse. I'd muted it when I was at the bookstore, and then forgot it. "Oh, I had left it muted. Here you are, six missed calls, four from you, and three texts. Sorry. What happened to your oh-so-important meeting?"

"It got pushed. We could actually have made it to the concert."

I look at him and smile, walking towards my bedroom. He speaks to my back.

"Seriously, what happened to you?"

He is getting tiresome, so I answer sarcastically. "It's none of your business, _boyfriend._ "

I hear the slamming of the front door and smile. I'm not in the mood for his whining anyways.

Not even a little sleepy, I put on my silk nightgown, pick up a glass of wine and my sketch pad. By the time I got sleepy, I had three new, smoking hot designs for my Spring collection.

Next morning, Julian was waiting outside the building, a red rose in his hand. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don't know what came over me. You know I love you, please forgive me."

I give him a soft smile. "All right, Julian. Forgiven and forgotten." I stretch on tiptoes and give him a sweet kiss on the lips. "But you're gonna have to take me somewhere fancy tonight." He appears to deflate.

"Well. Do you remember my meeting for yesterday? The one that got pushed?"

"Yes."

"It's going to be today, at seven. I'm so sorry, honey."

I make a little face. "Very well, make it tomorrow. But you'll have to bring your A game, handsome."

"You're on."

He does go all out. Show up on time, with a dozen red roses, looking very handsome in a new Brooks Brothers suit. He takes me to one of the more traditional italian restaurants in New York, and he is light, and charming, with little stories of the Broadway backstage, and growing up in Hollywood.. We then go to a Jazz club midtown, where we listen to old songs and dance. Julian is a smooth dancer and a charming companion when he cares to be. It feels like two years ago, in one of our first dates. The night ends at my condo, with some very sweet lovemaking. I enjoyed the evening, and appreciated the effort he put into it, but I couldn't help thinking that there were problems we couldn't just erase with roses, smooth talk or even great sex.

The following week was back to the old routine. During the day, dealing with the day-to-day running a major fashion label. After my burst of inspiration last Thursday, I hit a bit of a dry spell. I still needed at least half a dozen good designs to complete the Spring catalog. But everything I try either looks awkward or last season. Julian spends a couple of nights at my place, and I spend one at his. He is still trying to be his best self, but...

I'm in front of the mirror, applying mascara. We are supposed to go out for dinner with some bigwigs he is courting to fund his latest off-Broadway venture.

"Honey, have you seen my onix cufflinks?"

"I saw them on top of your nightstand."

"Damn. They are not here! Are you sure?"

I sigh, interrupt what I am doing and go to his nightstand, and pick up the cufflinks.

"Here. Next time you might actually try looking."

At least he has the grace of looking a little embarrassed. "Sorry."

I get back to my make-up. A few minutes later he appears behind me. "Hurry up, will you? We are going to be late."

"If you stop interrupting and let me concentrate, this will go faster."

He starts pacing up-and-down. "I need to get these guys on board, Brooke. If this project doesn't fly, I really don't know what I'm going to do."

"You'll move onto the next project."

"You don't realize how important this is to my career, Brooke! I've got to keep the momentum."

I apply the last touches and get up. I'm wearing one of my own models, a deep burgundy strapless number with silver accents that's very flattering to my figure. Add a platinum diamond choker, earrings, a tennis bracelet, silver four inch Blahniks and a creamy silk echarpe, and I'm ready to impress. I get to the living room and he looks at his watch.

"Finally! Let's roll."

At least a couple of our dinner companions aren't quite as oblivious to my appearance, much to the annoyance of their dates. Julian turns up the charm, and I work on dazzling, so we end the night with a couple of firm commitments to his project. As we ride back home, Julian is in the clouds. "We did it, Brooke! Finally I have the money to move forward. Thank you. You were brilliant today."

"I'm glad I could help, _boyfriend_." He just can't hear the slightly icy tone. We stop in front of my building and I tell the driver. "Please hold for a bit." I step outside with Julian on my heels, a puzzled expression on his face. "What?"

I give him a tired look. "I'm tired, Julian. You'd better go home."

"Why, Brooke? What did I do?"

"Nothing. I just want to rest. Call me tomorrow."

"All right, I'll call you tomorrow. I love you, bye."

"Bye."

I'm very annoyed with him, and I know this is not exactly fair. He's always been a little whiny and self-centered, but he compensates by being smart, charming, oh-so-handsome and an overall good guy. I'm far from perfect too, as my inner bitch is never far from the surface. I've always thought we make a good couple, but recently he seems to be getting too much on my nerves. Maybe it will pass.

Thursday morning begins with a call from Julian. I dismiss the call, as well as the two subsequent ones. Work starts crazy, and soon gets very crazy, as one crisis follows another. One of our signature models is found passed out in the VIP lounge of a fashionable club. She is going to spend a season in rehab, and the tabloids have their field day.

During lunch time, I get a text from Julian. "What did I do wrong? I'm sorry, love. Please call me. xox" I don't bother replying.

There's a fire in one of our warehouses, which backs up orders and messes up our logistics. Some designer from the midwest is suing us for intellectual property theft, alleging we stole a couple of her designs for our Fall collection. We have a long discussion with our lawyers and decide to settle, much to my annoyance. Time moves on, one meeting after the other, as I get increasingly frazzled and frustrated. It's a quarter to eight when I finally manage to get out of the office.

It's a crisp night, with unusually clear skies. I walk by the bookstore and get in. The same blonde teen that received me last week comes to me with a smile. "Welcome to Pierce's bookstore, madam." I look towards the children and young adults section.

"Was he here today?"

"Yes he was, madam. We had a full house today. He left about an hour ago."

My shoulders sag. "Thank you."

"He should be back next week around five, madam."

I can't believe my inappropriate dismay, the tears that threaten to spill, as I walk back home. What's wrong with me? As I approach the entrance to my building, there is Julian waiting for me, a single white rose in his hand and a slightly desperate look in his face.

He can see that something is wrong. "Brooke, my love, what's wrong? I'm so sorry."

I give him a narrowed eye stare. "Go home, Julian. I can't deal with you right now."

He steps in front of me. "Please don't shut me out, Brooke. I love you. Please tell me what is wrong."

"Just get out of my way."

"No. I need you to tell me what is wrong."

I scream at him. "I don't give a fuck about what you need! Get out of my way, or else..."

"Or else what?"

"You know what."

His body deflates in defeat, and he steps aside. He whispers. "Please, Brooke..."

I relent a bit. "I'll call you later."

"Bye, Brooke."

"Bye."

I toss myself on my bed, fully clothed, and cry non-stop for about half an hour. I'm not entirely clear why I am crying. Next I grab a tub of chunky monkey from the freezer, a spoon, and I watch old episodes of Sex and the City until I fall asleep in the couch.

I wake up at four in the morning, a crick in my neck for sleeping in the couch. I change into exercise clothes and go for a run. Manhattan is never really quiet, but at that time, it's just delivery trucks, sweepers, and the distant sound of emergency vehicles in the background. I end up running along the East River. After about an hour, I begin to feel like myself again. At home I take a long, hot shower, eat some breakfast and walk to the office.

At half past six the office is empty, and I have about two hours of quiet time. I manage three complete designs, pretty decent, if I may say so, before Christie walks in. "Miss Davis!"

I greet her with a smile. "Good morning Christie."

"You're here early."

"Yes. Please, send these to prototyping. I want to see them early next week. Also, get me a caramel macchiato. How's my day looking?"

"There's a meeting at ten with Macy's and the general staff meeting at three."

"Get the staff here at nine and clear my afternoon. Call Franz and book me for a full treatment."

The staff meeting happens with just a couple of department heads subbed by their assistants. It's the usual complaints, but no fires to be put out. The meeting with Macy's goes better than fine, as they report stronger than expected third quarter sales, and request a twenty percent increase in their inventory beginning next month. This is something we can actually accommodate, barely. At lunch, I call an old friend.

"Brooke, old slut. What's up?"

"Nothing much. Too much work. Drinks at Scotty's?"

"If it's early. Hot date tonight. Make it at six?"

"That's fine. See you then."

"Bye."

After an afternoon of pampering at Franz, I run home and get my act together and meet Rachel. Scotty's is a noisy bar midtown, catering to a young professional crowd. Rachel is sitting at the bar when I arrive, sipping white wine. She is a sculptural redhead with an acid wit, working as an account manager for a big ad agency. We've been best friends since high school.

We move to a table in a quieter corner, and I order a glass of red.

"What's up, fat ass? It's been a long time."

"You know, the usual. Too much work, not enough play..."

She cuts me off. "Don't bullshit me, slut. Something's up." She could always read me like a book.

I stare at my glass of wine. "Yeah, something is up."

"Julian?"

"In part. Something happened last week. Something crazy, and I can't get it out of my head."

"Did you cheat on Julian?"

"Hell, no! You know I don't do this shit. It's crazier than that, and all in my head. But my thing with Julian was already in a bit of trouble, an now it looks like it's about to crash."

"I can't say I'm sorry to hear that. I know you could do better."

"You always say that."

"It's always true. So, did you develop a crush on somebody?"

"That's closer to the mark, but it's not that either. Trouble is, I'm all but ready to dump Julian, and he didn't do anything wrong. It's all on me." I can feel my eyes becoming wet. "He's in love, Rach. It's going to hurt him like the bitch, and I can't even really explain why."

"It's easy. You're not in love with him." She throws her hands in the air. "You act and talk all tough, but you're such a softie. What do you care if he's hurt? You're Brooke Davis. He's already had two years with you. He should feel privileged."

I sigh. "I wish I was like you, sometimes."

"Then don't dump him, bitch. Wait a little. Maybe whatever is bothering you will pass, and you'll be all cozy with your boy toy again."

"Maybe."

As I step out of the bar, I send Julian a text. "Brunch at the Plaza. Sunday noon. xx"

Five minutes later I get a reply. "I'll be there. xox"

I go home, watch some dumb reality TV, eat and drink more wine. Then it's bed. I toss and turn. Finally, I resort to an ambien, and manage to slip away.

Saturday it's gym, a long soak, retail therapy and more sketching. I buy a wonderful Kors and some nice underwear. I also manage to get three halfway decent sketches made, so I'm done with the Spring collection. I'm going to put together a little private show for my in-house experts. Later, it's chinese take out and a long phone call with my lifelong bff, Peyton, who runs an art gallery in Atlanta and manages a household with three small kids. She married right out of college, a sweet, boring man who makes her very happy. I go to bed still without knowing what I'm going to do about Julian. At least I manage to sleep without alcohol or pills, but I end up dreaming again of the nameless storyteller.

I get to the Plaza fifteen minutes late, and Julian is already seated, looking uncomfortable. I give him a breezy smile and a quick peck in the lips. "Hi Julian."

"Good morning, Brooke."

We order, and, still not knowing what to do, I try a bit of avoidance. "So, how have you been?"

"Really, Brooke? We're pretending nothing is wrong?"

Well, no luck on the avoidance. It's onward, then. "I know, Julian. We have to talk."

"Did I do something wrong?" Straight to the point.

"No."

"Is there someone else?"

"No!"

He raises his voice a little. "Then what, Brooke? What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure I feel about you the same way you feel about me."

"I love you, Brooke. Are you saying you don't love me anymore?"

"No! I love you too. I'm not sure I am still in love with you."

"Do you want to break up?"

Moment of truth. I think a bit. "No. I want to keep trying it. I mean, trying us. Just take it easy."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that. Try to enjoy each other. See if things get back in shape."

He grabs my hand. "I'm all for that, Brooke. You know you're it for me."

I make a little grimace. "That's the problem right there. Please, avoid the heavy commitment stuff. Let's just take it a day at a time."

"What about a walk in the park after brunch? Check out the monkeys at the zoo? Make out a bit under a tree?"

"That's right. Now you're talking, boyfriend."

It's a very nice afternoon. We finish our brunch, and take our long afternoon in the park. The park is crowded, mostly people with children, enjoying the unseasonable sunny afternoon. A few hours later, Julian drops me off at my building, and with a brief kiss. I'm feeling good about my decision.

We meet again on Tuesday night, for pizza and a movie at my condo. Again, light fun. We make out during the movie, and end up having sex in front of the TV. After, he leaves to his apartment, as we both have early morning work. We arrange to have a formal dinner date on Friday.

Thursday morning I find myself in pins and needles already in the morning. I take a lot of time choosing my work outfit, which ends up on the conservative side, a cream cashmere pullover over a knee-length dark green skirt and short black boots with three inch heels. I make sure there's no appointment after three, and we have our little in-house show. I take note of several criticisms and suggestions for possible improvement of the collection, and, at four, I leave.

I'm sitting in a bean bag at the back corner of the room when he walks in. There's already a dozen or so children there. He is wearing tan slacks, a white cotton button shirt with rolled sleeves and sneakers. He is tall, a little over six feet, on the skinny side and young, maybe a little older than I originally thought. He takes his seat and looks at the audience. We exchange a brief mutual glance and I get the impression of a faint smile directed at me. He opens his book and starts weaving his magic.

 _"... after so many fights, so many disputes, the Lion is tired. For many years, the animals have brought him their disagreements, and he ponders, decides, and sometimes punishes, just as his father, and his father before that. So finally he brings the animals together and says. Enough! I will no longer be your King. Choose another..._

 _... some animals talk about a competition. The cheetah proposes a race. The elephant, weightlifting, the Hippo suggests choosing the animal with the biggest mouth, the giraffe, the biggest legs. But how to choose a new king? Perhaps a vote? One vote per animal, which surely the ants would like, if they could speak, or by species. Finally, an ancient turtle has the best proposal. A storytelling competition..._

 _... the Lion accepts to judge the competition. As a final kingly act, he would decide on the best story... "_

I close my eyes and let myself drift in his story. As before, it's not a conventional fable, the animals are as individually quirky as their voices. I imagine a beloved parent reading this story to his little girl, and I feel like I am again a little girl. I open my eyes and I see I'm not the only one under his spell. The children and even their parents all have this dreamy look, all transported to his world, by the measured cadence of his voice, and the twists and turns of his tale. This time I don't sleep. I follow the story to it's conclusion and I quietly applaud with the others when he is done.

As people leave, I stand up and wait, in the hope of exchanging a few words with him. After everyone left, he approaches me, book under one arm, one hand in his pocket.

"Hi. I've seen you here before."

"I was here a couple of weeks ago. I'm surprised you remember."

He smiles. "You're not easy to forget."

His words and his stare fluster me a bit. "I'm a little embarrassed, a grown woman coming here to hear stories, without a child as an excuse..."

"I assume the child is hidden inside you." He pauses. "My name is Lucas."

"I'm Brooke."

"Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you for your reviews. As usual, I don't own anything related to OTH.

Chapter 2

"Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

I touch his arm and smile at him. "Make it a glass of wine and you're on, handsome."

He flinches a bit when I touch him, which is not the reaction I usually get when I flirt. Still, he smiles. "A glass of wine it is, then."

We walk slowly, side by side. He is old fashioned, opens doors, walks on the street side, and, when we get to the bar, pulls me a chair.

"Red or white?"

"Red"

To the barmaid. "Two glasses of red, please." And, as she came back, "Thank you, sweetie."

"Somebody took the trouble of raising you right, Lucas."

"My mother would appreciate the compliment. She is a very proper southern lady."

"Where did you grow up?"

He does a southern drawl. "North Carolina, m'am. You, I guess, are a New Yorker through and through."

I giggle. "You're quite right. Born on the west side, raised by wolves."

"Them wolves did a pretty good job too."

"Well, thank you. It's funny. I've a pretty good ear for accents, and I couldn't pick up even a hint of southern drawl during your reading."

"Well, I'm pretty good at catching and imitating accents, you know?" He says in as a perfect imitation of a Brooklyn native.

My laughter explodes wine in all directions, including his white shirt. "Oh my god, I'm sorry! You caught me by surprise."

"It was my fault."

"Well.. yes it was." I give him a broad smile. "That was so funny."

"How did you like the story?"

"I loved it. The animals were so quirky, each with their own personality. And the story was interesting and inventive. How do you pick the stories you perform?"

He looks down at the table, clearly embarrassed by my question. "What?"

He gives me the book in his hand. "That's for you." I look at the book, with a drawing of the Lion in the foreground, and the other animals behind it. "The Lion, by Lucas Scott"

"You wrote it?" He nods. "Thanks!" I stare at him for a bit "Wow! You wrote it."

For an instant, words escape me. I was already floored by his performance as a storyteller. He makes me feel a little inadequate, this gorgeous young man with so much talent.

Finally, I find my words again. "Why do you do it? I mean, the readings?"

"I need to keep some personal touch with my readers, to keep them real."

I think a bit about it. "You know, I totally get it."

"How come?"

"I'm a fashion designer. Mostly I design clothing, also some underwear, an occasional shoe, handbag or accessory. Sometimes, I feel the need to do retail, go to a store, spend a day selling the stuff to real people. It's just like you say. I need to keep my clients real."

"I guess you do get it." He looks at his watch. "I have to go."

"Can't stop for a bite?"

"Sorry, no. Maybe some other time."

I feel my heart sinking. "You have someone waiting for you."

"Yes."

I look at my wine, not managing to hide my disappointment. I speak in a low tone. "I have a boyfriend too." I see the surprise in his face, and I know I took a wrong turn somewhere.

He also speaks in a low voice. "I don't have a woman in my life. I have a four-year-old son. His name is Max. And I have a babysitter who is probably growing a little impatient."

He drops cash for the wine, a nice tip at the counter and gets up to leave.

"Wait!" He turns around. I give him the book and a pen I fish out of my purse. "Write me something."

He stops, thinks a bit, and scribbles something. He gives me the book and the pen back, with a gentle smile. "I'll see you around, Brooke."

"Looking forward, Lucas Scott."

He walks out, hands in his pockets, without looking back.

He wrote: "To the little girl within. Lucas Scott."

Damn.

I need to talk to someone.

"Rachel? You home?"

"Yup."

"Alone?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

"Can I come over? I need to talk."

"Yeah, come over, little slut. We can have a little slumber party. Did you eat?"

"No."

"All right, I'll order some pasta."

"Be there in twenty."

Rachel lives by herself on a loft on the lower East side, carefully decorated in a relaxed, modern style. Some of the art is a little screechy for my taste, but the airy, open floor plan makes up for it. I arrive together with the delivery boy.

"Hi, slut. Go to my room and get out of your work clothes. Just grab something comfortable from my closet. I'll setup dinner in the meantime."

"Will do, old whore. Be right back."

I put on a large NYFD gray sweat I find in the back of her closet over my underwear, let my hair loose and even remove the makeup, before coming back down. We sit down to eat.

"So, what happened?"

"Well, first, last Sunday, I decided to give Julian one last chance. We're taking it easy, having fun. We are supposed to go on this romantic dinner date tomorrow."

"Is it working?"

"So far. Problem is, do you remember the complication?"

"The one that was all in your head?"

"Not anymore. He's tall, dreamy, too young, incredibly talented, and I'm not sure I can get him out of my head. He writes children's books, of all things. And, oh yes, he's the single father of a four-year-old boy."

"Is he a player?"

"Just the opposite. And he is interested. You should have seen his face when I said I had a boyfriend."

"It sounds like the third rail in the subway. Touch it and you die. But in a fun, complicated way."

"Looks like it. On the surface, he makes me feel like a crushed-out teenager, Rach. And I barely know the guy. Worse, from what little I know, we are totally wrong for each other."

"How did you meet?"

"Two weeks ago, I walked on him reading one of his books to a bunch of kids. I was just getting out of the rain. I got completely mesmerized by his storytelling, sat down to listen and fell asleep. They didn't even know his name at the bookstore, but they told me he comes almost every Thursday around five, to read aloud for a couple of hours."

"So?"

"The first Thursday comes around, and I can't make it out of the office on time. Then I meet Julian afterwards and nearly take his head off. On Friday I met with you and told you about my problems."

"So, today you actually met the guy."

"I went to his reading. It was amazing, just like the first time. Then he asked me out for a coffee. We went for a glass of wine and talked for about twenty minutes. He is charming, sweet, funny, and scary smart. He's also pretty guarded."

"You got all that from a twenty minute conversation?"

"It was a pretty intense twenty minutes. And I know I made an impression too."

"Oh, you always make an impression. Brooke. You got the hardened bitch act down like second nature, but there's this sweetness about you. You're the worst heartbreaker I've ever seen."

"I don't want to break his heart. Or anybody's heart, for that matter."

"Then stay away. Or go all the way in and never let go."

I love the way Rachel can reduce complications to its stark bones. That's exactly right. Either stay away, or dive all the way in. Trouble is, I really, really don't want to do the first, and I am totally terrified of the second. And then there is Julian.

Julian comes around on time, sharply dressed, with a charming grin and a red rose. I dress up, a sexy dark blue de la Renta with all the trimmings. He's really going all out, but, in truth, my heart is not in it anymore. I try it, go through the motions, but he can see something's not right and, by night's end, he is sounding a little desperate. Finally, I can't take it anymore.

"It's not working, Julian."

"Don't say that. I'm really trying it."

"I can see that, sweetie. It's not you. It's me."

"I can't give up on you. Please, Brooke. I love you."

"And I love you too. But..."

He raises his tone a bit and cuts me off. "Just tell me what I can do to fix this."

"I don't think you can. We're done, Julian. Finished."

"Is there someone else?"

He had to ask that. And I'm not about to lie. "Yes. And no."

He gets puffed up, fists clenched. "What does that mean? Did you cheat?"

I shake my head. "No, Julian. You know I wouldn't. It's just that..."

"Someone better crossed your path. Who? Some Wall Street dude? Professional athlete?

Some model?" He stops. "It's your Thursday guy, right? Did you meet him yesterday?"

I stand mute. Nobody ever accused him of being stupid. I just shrug, without answering.

After a minute of silence, and a couple of tears down my face, he stands up. "I'm not giving up, Brooke Davis. I'll fight for you, you'll see. I know I'm the guy for you."

I stay for a while after he leaves. Drop a couple of tears. We had a good run. I order a piece of chocolate truffle torte, and mingle my sadness, relief and the sweet taste of chocolate.

"Rach?"

"Slut?"

"I dumped him."

"Good for you. What about dreamy boy?"

"I don't know. I think I'm going to dip my toe."

"All the way in, but slowly?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Well, good luck. You know I'll always be here to help pick up the pieces."

"I love you, bitch."

"Right back at you."

I spend Saturday at the office, revising my sketches for the Spring line. I actually scrap a couple of them, and do three entirely new ones. To me, it looks like my best collection ever. The unveiling will be on January, during New York Fashion Week, but I need to do a presentation to our Board in November. Aside from our designs, I occasionally sell individual designs to Victoria's Secret. It's a lucrative little side business, as I get a slice of sales, and they manage to put my name on their displays. Besides, I love sexy lingerie. I've even modeled for them a few times, which permanently appended "former Victoria's Secret angel" to my media personality. I finish the day making a couple of sketches of naughty girl undies, while dreaming about corrupting a certain sexy blonde single father. I'll model these for him, if I ever get the chance...

Shit. Someone is turning into a seriously crushed out teenager in her old age.

Waiting for me at the door to my condo, two dozen red roses with the card. "Please, come back to me. Love, Julian." I'm not about to waste such nice flowers, so I put them on a vase. I also toss the card and send Julian a text. "Thanks for the flowers. You're wasting your money. Move on, big boy." Afterwards I wonder if I'm not just encouraging him by replying. The truth is that I never broke up with anyone without being mad at them.

Sunday it's sleeping in, and then hitting the gym. Back home, after a long soak and lunch, I call Peyton

"Hello, Jagielski residence."

"Maddie?" Maddie is Madeleine, Peyton's six year old.

"Yes. Is it Aunt Brooke?"

"That's right, sweetie. How's school?" She started first grade this Fall.

"School is boring. But I like my new friends."

"What about the outfits I sent you?"

"Oh, auntie, they are perfect! I'm the prettiest girl in my class."

"Of course you are. Is your mom around?"

"She was giving Davy a bath. Let me check." Davy is the six-month-old baby. Quick steps. "Mommy, mommy! It's aunt Brooke!"

"Hey, BDavis, nice to hear from you."

"Hi. Can you talk?"

"I just finished giving Davy a bath, and I handed him to Jake for feeding. I was about to sit down for a cup of tea and some reading, so I guess it's perfect timing. What's up?"

"Well, headline news, I broke up with Julian."

"Oh, wow. What happened? Are you ok? Did he misbehave?"

I laugh. "Slow down, blondie. First, I'm fine. More relieved than sad."

"All right, that's good, I guess."

"Second, it wasn't his fault at all. I kind of lost interest."

"Oh. Poor Julian. He must be devastated."

"It was a pretty gruesome scene Friday night."

"This is a bit out of character for you. You'll put up with all kinds of things to avoid hurting the people you love... wait. I know. There's someone else, isn't there?"

"Yup."

"What happened? Did you cheat on Julian?"

"No. You know I wouldn't."

"True, but we all know shit happens anyways."

"No cheating. About two weeks ago, I entered this bookstore near the office, to get out of the rain. This guy was reading aloud to a bunch of children."

"Hot guy?"

"Dreamy. Hot too. Too young."

"Wow."

"He does this amazing job of storytelling. Pulls you right in. I got really entranced by the story, and ended up asleep. Best nap ever. When I wake up, he is gone, and the bookstore staff tells me he usually comes on Thursdays."

"So you went back."

"I couldn't make it the first week. Crazy day at work. But three days ago, I managed to make it back. This time I heard the whole story. He approached me and asked to pay me a cup of coffee. We went for a glass of wine in a bar nearby. We talked."

"And one thing led to another..."

"No, silly. We talked for twenty minutes. And then he had to leave. Actually, he left after I told him I had a boyfriend, which I had at that moment. I hope to see him again next Thursday and tell him the boyfriend is history, and try to go on from there."

"Hm. Twenty minutes."

"Yup."

"What's he like?"

"Tall, skinny, young, blonde, blue eyes..."

"How young is too young?"

"Early twenties."

"Cradle robber."

I giggle. "I know. To complicate things further, he is a single parent, four-year-old boy."

"Now, that's a serious complication. And you're ok with that?"

"I find the whole package enticing and pretty scary at the same time. Ah, and he is the author of the stories. He writes children's books."

"Wait. What's his name?

"It's Lucas. Lucas Scott."

"What?" She yells. "You were two-timing Julian with Lucas Scott?"

"C'mon, Goldilocks, I wasn't two-timing anybody."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

"And you know him?"

"Everyone with children knows him. He's Maddie and Allie's favorite author. I must have read Peter and the Stone for them twenty times."

"Wow. I had no idea he was famous."

"You didn't bother to check his wikipedia page?"

"No. I thought it was stalkerish."

"You should. Well, Peter and the Stone got a Newberry medal, which is the Nobel Prize of children's literature. He wrote five books. When one of his books comes out, there are long lines at the bookstores."

"Now I understand why they are so discreet about his readings at the bookstore. It would be a riot if word got out."

"That's right. He keeps a really low media profile, probably because of his little boy, Max, right?"

"Right."

"I saw an interview with him on public television about a year ago, right after he got the Newberry. Dreamy and hot is an understatement. Do you remember saying that everyone was entitled to a short list, say three people, with whom cheating wouldn't count? I remember Pete, from Fall out Boy was in your list in high school."

"Yeah, of course I remember."

"Your boy has been in mine since that interview."

What? Are you kidding? "You keep your claws away from him, Peyton Sawyer! I got dibs."

Peyton laughs. "That's fine. Buds over studs, sweetie. By the way, I think he's twenty-three."

"He looks young, but he certainly doesn't act it."

"Parenting. If it's done right, will mature you really fast."

"Shit, girl. What am I doing? I don't think I've ever had it this bad. And I barely know the guy. My heart says to go for it, and my mind thinks we are all wrong for each other."

"Brooke, you know my first advice will always be to follow your heart. You owe it to yourself to check it out. Or, at least find out if your mind might be wrong. But keep in mind, he is a parent. You will always come second with him, at best. He has to be really careful about who he introduces to his life."

"I know, and I agree. At least after our talk I know that my being rich and famous is not a concern."

"That's right. Well, I think I gotta go." I hear some shouting in the background. "Good luck to both of you. He is quite a catch, I think, and I know you are too. I hope it works out."

"Thanks."

"I'll wait to hear more next week."

"Bye."

Monday there are more flowers waiting for me on Christie's desk. I give her the revised sketches for the Spring line. Get them to prototyping. I want a photo book for the Board presentation. And these go to Veronica Devereaux, at Victoria's Secret.

Wednesday, aside from more flowers, I get a call from Veronica. She is their head designer and my former boss.

"Hi, Ver. What's up? Did you like them?"

"Like them? We loved them. I'm calling with a request. Do four more, along the same lines, and get a range of colors. We'll market them as a separate line, say "Dream of You" by B. Davis, a Victoria's Secret exclusive line. We'll double your cut." That's pretty serious. Like, eight figures serious. "There's more, sweetie. We want you to model it. Moderate use of your image. We'll write a separate contract for that." In truth, I love modeling underwear. I have an exhibitionist streak a mile wide.

"I'm getting too old for this, Ver.".

"We strongly disagree. We would like to remove that "former" from your angel."

"I won't see giant pictures of myself in naughty undies on outdoors or on the mall's displays?"

She giggles. "No. I swear."

"Then, please, have both contracts sent to my lawyers. We'll discuss details later."

"All right sweetie, bye."

This time I brought a change of clothes to work. So, around four I tell Christie to hold all calls and change. Black skinny jeans, a v-neck cream cashmere sweater over a light green silk blouse, just a hint of cleavage, dark leather wedges, hoop earrings and a high, glossy ponytail. Just a hint of makeup. Understated sexy and young.

Of course, Julian was waiting for me outside the building. He was looking awful, crumpled, two-day beard and looking like he hadn't slept in a week. He stared at me like he was seeing a ghost.

"It's Thursday. You're going to see him."

I smile at him. He is not going to spoil my mood."Yup. Just get lost, Julian."

"Please, give me another chance, I know I can make you happy."

I start walking up third. He follows me. I walk faster. Now he is pissing me off. After a few blocks, I spot a couple of uniformed cops at a corner and I run. Julian runs after me. I get to the cops and pretend to be scared. "That man is following me. I don't know what to do." The cops intercept Julian and start talking to him. I begin to sneak away, and Julian gets frantic, trying to bypass the cops by force. As I turn the corner, I peek back and see Julian in handcuffs, being placed in the back of a police car. Good riddance..

He sees me sneaking in when he is just getting into his reading. Today's story is a modern urban fairy tale, about two brothers from a poor neighborhood and a pair of magical sneakers, that makes the wearer into a great basketball player. Same magical performance. He finishes, receives his quiet applause and approaches me again, bright blue eyes looking straight into mine. I give him my broadest, happiest smile and I get his own happy grin in return.

"Can I buy you a coffee, handsome?"

He shakes his head, still grinning. "It's not a good idea, pretty girl. I should probably be going."

As he passes by me, I grab his arm and whisper in his ear. "The boyfriend is history." He stops and turns back, looking me in the eyes.

"Really?"

I grin at him, "Yup."

He mulls it a bit. "What about dinner instead?"

"That's fine too."

"Give me a moment." He picks up his phone and speed dials. "Lucy? Is Max awake?

Hey, peanut. Listen, I'm taking a pretty girl out to dinner. Do you mind if Lucy reads to you and tucks you in tonight? I know, but she is ok too, isn't she? All right, thank you. Let me talk to Lucy.

Hi. Yeah, something came up. Can you stay for a while? No later than eleven, all right. Thanks, bye."

"All right. My curfew is eleven. Any preferences?"

"Not really."

"Very well, I know just the place." He takes me by the hand, fingers intertwined, and we walk slowly, about five blocks uptown on Second, and half a block down towards the East river. The place we stop is a tiny french bistrot, less than four blocks from my condo. It's a little weird that I had never noticed it. We get lucky, as there are only two free tables when we walk in.

"Good evening, Mr. Scott, welcome back. And good evening to your lovely companion."

"Hi, Michel. This is Brooke..." He looks at me, suddenly realizing he doesn't know my last name.

"Davis. Brooke Davis. And good evening to you too, Michel."

We order wine and food, and we are left with an awkward silence. He reaches for my hand, and we intertwine our fingers. Finally, I giggle. "You've been swirling around in my head for three solid weeks now. I've even dreamed about you a few times. Now I'm sitting here, and I have no idea what to say."

He laughs softly. "That looked like a good start." He plays with my fingers. "I've been obsessing about you too. I haven't dreamed about you yet, except maybe in daydreams."

"And what were we doing, in these daydreams of yours?"

"The same as in your dreams?"

I look into his eyes, amusement and desire swirling around my head. "You're good."

"And you are beautiful."

"Thank you."

"How long, you and your ex?"

"Two years and a bit."

"And you want another relationship right away?"

I open his hand, and trace the lines with the tip of a nail. "Not a relationship. I think I want you."

"I bring a lot of baggage, Pretty Girl."

"So do I. Nothing as obvious as a child, but heavy stuff anyways. By the way, I love the nickname, but calling me a girl stretches the meaning a bit."

"The only thing I really know about you is that you like to listen to stories. That means you're still a girl, in some way."

"I haven't let myself be a girl in a long time. That's why listening to your stories feels so good, I think. It opens a window that I didn't even know existed."

"I like that."

"Lucas. Storyteller."

"Yes."

"I'm afraid that once you get to know me, you won't like me."

"That's an unavoidable risk. But, I really like you so far. More than I should, maybe."

"I'm a real bitch much of the time."

"Is that who you are, or is it a role you play to get by?"

Now that's a tough one. "Both?"

He crinkles his eyes in amusement. "One's got to use the tools available, right?"

I smile too. "That's right, babe."

"I used to be an arrogant jackass."

"Used to be?"

"Then I became a parent. I swear, Brooke Davis. You learn more from your children than they learn from you."

"That sounds like something a good parent would say."

"I sure try, Pretty Girl."

"I'd like to meet him."

"Do you want to come to the Park with us on Saturday? If the weather is good, I mean."

"What time do you go?"

"Around nine. Do you live around here?"

"Four blocks away. A condo on East sixty-eight, between First and Second."

"I live on East sixty-four, between Third and Lexington, at the Royale. We could meet you downstairs."

"It's a date."

"It's a big step for me, Brooke."

"I guess I realize that."

We linger over dessert. I tell him about being a fashion designer, about running Clothes over Bros. He tells me about his routine, and his work as a writer, about pre-schools and play dates. We pay and we walk slowly, hand on hand, towards my building.

"I got a tempting offer yesterday."

"What?"

"Modeling sexy underwear for Victoria's Secret. I've done it before, a few years back, but they want me modeling my own designs. It's a kind of publicity stunt."

"Is it? You certainly seem pretty enough to be one of their angels."

"I'm not tall enough, and I'm a bit too old for a lingerie model."

"I'll reserve judgment on that until we're better acquainted."

"Does it bother you?"

He laughs. "Do you enjoy doing it?"

"Yes."

"Then it doesn't bother me at all. Quite the contrary."

"Do you want to come up? Get, better acquainted?."

He sighs. "It's tempting, Pretty Girl. But I'd rather wait."

I pout. "Really? You're sure?"

"I think you're a keeper, Brooke. We have time. Let's take it slowly."

"I can agree with that. But not too slowly. If I don't get at least one good kiss from

you tonight, I'm going to explode."

He turns around and faces me. He holds my face between his hands and gives me the sweetest slow kiss on the lips I've ever had. He pulls back, looks into my eyes and smiles. I'm lost in sensation. His hands are large and rough, he feels strong and toned and he smells of soap, some citric aftershave and a bit of sweat. He changes his grip, placing one hand behind my neck and one in my hip. He approaches for another kiss, this time we open our mouths and give each other a deep, sensual kiss that I feel all the way to my toes.

We exchange contacts, another couple of kisses, and he watches me as I enter my building.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Last Chapter. I could have extended things a bit, but I think the whole story is told. Thanks to my readers and to my kind reviewers. As you know, I don't own anything connected to OTH.

Chapter 3

I try to keep the silly grin inside, but it keeps breaking out at the slightest provocation. "Good morning, Christie."

"Good morning, Miss Davis. You look chipper today."

"It's a beautiful day, Christie." Actually, it's cold and drizzly, but, never mind. "What's in the agenda?"

"It's pretty full. Your lawyer called. They want to discuss the contracts with Victoria's Secret."

"Phone or in person?"

"He said a phone call will do."

"What else?"

"Prototyping wanted to let you know they already have six of the revised models done. They said you might want to swing by and take a look. Also, Finance said they wanted to meet. Something about preliminary numbers for the third quarter. You have a lunch meeting with this new model agency, who wants to pitch some of its talent to you."

"Tell Rebecca to take the lunch meeting. She knows our requirements, and she will pass on anything I need to see."

"Mr. Baker called. He seemed upset."

"All right. Give me a few minutes."

I enter my office and call Julian. He answers after a couple of rings.

"Brooke."

"Julian. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. Didn't get much sleep in lock up, but I'm fine. I'm sorry."

"You should be. Move on, Julian. I already did."

"I can't believe that. It was two years, Brooke."

"We've been coasting for a while, Julian."

He sighs. "Maybe." A little pause. "I'm never going to forgive myself for letting you slip through my fingers. I should have proposed two months ago."

"I would have said no."

He seems to mull that over a bit. "Who is the new guy?"

"You don't know him."

"I guess I'll see you two in the tabloids."

"I hope so."

"What?"

"I mean, I hope we last long enough to make it to the tabloids."

"I didn't want to hear that."

"Be well, Julian. And stop stalking me."

"All right, Brookie babe, I'll be seeing you around."

"Bye."

Next I call my lawyer.

"Miss Davis, We went over both contracts. The modeling contract is restricted to your new line, and, it conforms to your guidelines. Catalogs, the runway, online ads and up to lifesize pictures. No outside ads. It's a year contract, renewable for two more years, and you get eight hundred thousand a year, which is in line with their other top models. The designer contract is also a year renewable for two more. You get thirty percent of point-of-sale, twenty percent of online sales. Together, these contracts represent potential earnings in the low eight figures, Miss Davis, I took the liberty of looping in our tax experts, and they strongly urge you to set up a new company, instead of signing this as yourself."

"Very well, set up a new limited partnership with myself as the single partner. Call it... Storybook Designs. Inform Victoria's Secret and get back to me for signing."

"We'll probably have this all ready by next week."

"All right. Have a nice weekend."

"You too, Miss Davis."

I take the meeting with finance, and I go check the prototypes. After that, I spend the rest of the day happily designing naughty lingerie, with a handsome blue-eyed boy grinning from the back of my mind.

I meet Rachel and one of her co-workers at Scotty's for a few drinks.

"Hi, Rach."

"Hi, Brooke. This is Alice."

Alice is an elegant forty-something blonde with sad eyes. "Hi, Alice. Nice to meet you."

"You're Brooke Davis. I really love your designs."

"Thank you. And thank you for wearing it. It looks good on you." It's a navy two-piece with red accents, from last Fall's collection.

"So, what's up?"

"With me, nothing new," Rachel says. "Alice here is trying to end a fifteen-year marriage."

"We had a meeting with the mediator this afternoon. We are trying to do it friendly, but it's hard."

"Children?"

"One daughter, nine. I retain custody, he agrees to alternate weekends, holidays and two weeks in the Summer."

"Why did you split up?"

"It was nothing much. We got bored, I guess. We were so much in love, once."

"Brooke just broke up with a two-year boyfriend."

"You don't seem very heartbroken."

I give her the goofy grin. "I'm not."

Rachel turns to me. "You met him yesterday."

I nod. "Dinner and a little making out afterwards."

Alice looks puzzled. "Who?"

"Her new beau."

"You had one already lined up?"

"Let's say that meeting him sort of precipitated the end of the old thing."

"Damn. I have to go back to the dating routine."

Rachel turns to me. "When are you meeting him?"

"Tomorrow morning. Going to the Park with the kid."

"Your new beau has a kid?" Alice asks.

"Four-year-old boy. He's a single father."

"What's the story there?"

"I have no idea. I don't know much about him. I tried to get him to my apartment yesterday. He refused."

"He did?" Rachel is as surprised as I was.

"He said I was a keeper, and that we should take it slowly."

"Sounds like he is a keeper." Alice adds.

"Yup. And a damn good kisser too. Can't wait to get that boy naked."

We all laugh at that. "I spent the whole afternoon designing naughty underwear, and thinking of him."

"That sounds like fun."

"You don't know half of it. I'm going to market my own line of underwear through Victoria's Secret, and I'm going to model it too."

"So, you're back being an angel."

I make an innocent, pouty face, "Don't I look the part?"

It's a beautiful morning, so the park is on. I like to leave them waiting, but I guess that's out with a four-year-old, so I'm at his building nine sharp. They are both waiting outside. Max is tall and thin, with a thick light brown mess of hair, tan, with huge, expressive blue eyes, a little darker his father's.

"Max, this is my friend Brooke. Brooke, this is Max."

I kneel down in front of him. "It's very nice to meet you."

He speaks in a clear, thin voice, articulating carefully. "It's nice meeting you too. You are very pretty."

"Well, thank you. And you are a very handsome boy."

We begun walking in the direction of the park, Max between Lucas and I. I was surprised when I felt a small hand grab mine. Lucas and I exchange looks and smiles.

"So, where do you like to go in the Park?"

Lucas suggests first. "We could go rowing."

Max lights up. "First the carousel, Daddy, then rowing."

Once we get inside the park, Max lets go of our hands and runs ahead, yelling and scattering the pigeons. Lucas grabs my hand and pulls me close, whispering in my ear. "Thank you for coming, Pretty Girl."

I reply in the same tone. "He is beautiful, Lucas. Such a joy."

"Thanks."

Max looks back and frowns, as he notices we are holding hands. He turns around and continues to run, a bit ahead of us, in the direction of the carousel.

"How do you introduce a girlfriend to him?"

Lucas laughs. "I don't know."

I give him a puzzled look. "I never did."

"What?"

"His mother ran away when he was six months old. Since then I only had one relationship, with my agent Lindsay. He has always known Lindsay, this was two years ago, and it only lasted for a month. He never even noted that she went from friend, to girlfriend and back to friend again. So, this is the first time."

"You haven't had a girlfriend in two years?"

"Thursday was the first time I kissed a woman in two years."

"Why, Lucas?"

He shrugs. "I guess I'm picky."

I giggle. "I guess I'm flattered."

We get to the carousel and Lucas buys three tickets. He puts Max on a horse and stands there, not holding, but just hovering around protectively. Max laughs, delighted by the music and the motion.

"Daddy, can I go again?"

"Sure, peanut. I'll go buy more tickets." He turns to me. "Will you watch him?"

"Sure."

"Brooke."

"Yes, Max?"

"Do you like Daddy?"

"I do, sweety."

"I think he likes you."

"Why do you say that?"

"He is smiling more."

"Can I give you a hug?"

He looks at me with a little smirk, copied straight from his father. "Yes."

I wrap him in my arms, and he hugs my neck, as the carousel starts spinning again.

After the carousel, we go to the boathouse and rent a boat. Lucas rows, and Max sits between my legs. At first he is all talk, chatting about everything he sees. Soon, however, he relaxes and closes his eyes, leaning against my chest.. Slowly his thumb makes its way to his mouth. I hum softly while he naps. I can feel his little fingers wrapping themselves around my heart.

Lucas stops rowing and smiles at me. He speaks softly. "You're good with him."

"He is easy."

"For most people he isn't. He is shy and a little high strung."

"You said his mother ran away when he was six months old. Did she ever come back?"

"Yes, a year later. Nikki wanted to be a part of his life. She stuck with it for about three months, then she got together with this punk and they started getting high together. They came to me for cash a couple of times. The third time, I had her sign a document abdicating of all her parental rights to Max, in exchange for fifty thousand dollars. I haven't seen her since. I heard she is doing time in Florida, for trafficking."

"Damn."

"Does he ever ask about his mother?"

"Occasionally."

"And how do you answer?"

"I lie. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to tell him the truth about her. It kills me, you know. My father never wanted me, and that was a big deal for me growing up."

"Neither of my parents wanted me. I was raised by nannies until I was thirteen, and by myself after that. Having one loving parent looks like heaven to me."

"I actually had two. My mother and an uncle, who was a real father to me. It still stung that my real father didn't give a damn about me. I can't begin to imagine how harsh it was for you. I'm sorry."

I smile. "I came out fine."

"Much more than fine."

"Come here." He approaches, gingerly, so as not to overturn the boat. I give him a soft kiss on the lips. "Thank you."

He rows back and we start back, with him carrying Max. After a few minutes Max awakes and complains that he is hungry. We hurry back to Lucas' apartment.

"Will you come up? I'll fix you lunch."

"Sure."

His apartment is a large three bedroom on the thirtieth floor, with a wrap around balcony. The decoration is stark and functional, clearly lacking a woman's touch. I poke around while Lucas

fixes Max' lunch. In a wall of the living room, there's a bookcase with prizes, several for writing, including the Newberry medal, and a whole lot of trophies for basketball.

"You were a serious basketball player."

"My high school was state champion senior year, and I played two years for Chapel Hill. We were NCAA champions my sophomore year. Then I had to quit. Single parenting and basketball don't work together."

"That must have been hard, giving it up."

"No, it was easy. Between basketball and Max? No contest. I wrote a novel in my senior year in high school. I sent it to publishers, and I got a publishing contract soon after Nikki left. Money hasn't been a problem for us after that."

"When did you switch to children's books?"

"I didn't. I started writing children's books when Nikki got pregnant, so Max is the inspiration for that. But I keep writing adult fiction too. I've published three books under the pen name Michael Murray, two of them bestsellers."

"Oh yes. I've heard that name."

Max had finished eating. "Let me tuck him for his nap."

I follow him to Max' room. It's a messy, but very happy looking little boy's room, with basketball and Lucas' books as themes. I pick up scattered clothing and dump it in a hamper. We tiptoe back to the living room.

"He is out for about an hour, maybe more. I can fix us lunch now."

"No."

I pull him by the hand to his bedroom. "One hour, you say."

"Yup."

"Two years without sex, right?"

"Right."

"That is unacceptable. Such a fine looking specimen going sadly to waste. I intend to rectify this immediately." I lock the door and start undressing. I adore the silly grin in his face, and the desire in his eyes.

"What about taking it slow?"

"Fuck slow. I need you inside me. Now."

I leave after lunch, but before Max wakes up. We agreed that, even though we weren't taking it slow anymore between ourselves, we needed to take it slow with Max. His sitter would come in the morning and stay until after lunch, so we would go for a run, and then back to my place for a shower and some more leisurely sex. I was falling for him so fast, it didn't even seem real.

On Tuesday. I came to their place after work and we had pizza and ice cream, and watched "Cars". Thursday, I went to his reading, and we ended up with dinner at the same little restaurant and some wonderful time in my bed afterwards. On Friday, we were taking Max out to friend's birthday party.

I got out of work a little early, and walked to Lucas building. By then the concierge knew me, and I went right up. I knocked on the door. She answered the door with a smile. "Hi..." Dirty blonde, young, maybe nineteen or twenty. Tall, green eyes, generous curves. Wearing the sluttiest pair of shorts I've ever seen, and a tiny tank top, without a bra. I turned around and started to call the elevator back. She begins talking to my back. "Miss Davis, Brooke.. Please. I'm Lucy. The sitter."

I turn around.

"You're the sitter."

"Yes. Luke went to the supermarket. He should be back in a few minutes."

"Where is Max?"

"He is taking a nap."

I raised my voice a little, careful not to wake him up.. "Why the fuck are you dressed like that?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Davis. I know it looks weird."

"Weird? Fucked up is more like it."

"Please come in. Let me explain."

Still fuming, I get in and sit in the couch.

"I live upstairs with my parents."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen. I'm pre-law at Columbia. I've been babysitting Max for two years. Lucas actually pays me a salary, so I'm more-or-less always on call. I also help out around the house. I had a huge crush on him at first. I tried to get in his pants in dead earnest for six months, and he kept rebuffing me very gently, all that time. I think he only put up with me because Max and I got along very well."

"All right."

"At first I thought he didn't want me because I was a minor. Then I turned eighteen, and basically climbed naked in his bed. He just shooed me away and went back to sleep. From the beginning, I made a point of coming to work in the sluttiest clothes I could find. It was a kind of game between us. He would just check me out, smile and say "very nice", or something like that. I even have had a serious boyfriend in the past six months. I mean no harm, and nothing ever happened, I swear."

"Well, sweetie. He is taken now. It stops."

"Ok. Sorry."

"Go change into something... into something. I'll take care of Max if he wakes up."

Lucas walks in twenty minutes later with two bags of groceries. I'm still sitting on the couch, pretty mad. He gets in, takes a look at me and starts to smile and then narrows his eyes, checks Lucy out, and actually says "oops!" to himself. He drops the groceries in the kitchen counter, kisses Max and looks at me.

"Your room."

He gets in, already speaking. "I'm sorry. I've been meaning to tell Lucy to cut it out, but it totally escaped my mind."

I raise my hand. "Why did you let it happen?"

He looks sheepish. "It seemed harmless, it never got in the way of her doing her job well, and she does look good in no clothes."

"So, it wasn't totally innocent."

"No. Of course I got a kick out of it."

"You know she enjoyed it too."

"Yes. If she felt bad about it she wouldn't do it. She is smart, has a big heart and a healthy self-regard. I really feel it was harmless."

"I get it, all of it. And the proof that it was basically harmless is that she is still happily working for you, and even appears to like you, without an unhealthy attachment. What I don't understand is why you didn't take what was so obviously, and so enthusiastically offered. You are not a monk."

"I don't do casual sex, Pretty Girl. If I took it, it would mean something, and then it would not be harmless. I don't feel like that about her. Max and I would eventually lose both a great helper and even a friend. I'm sorry."

I laugh. "You're forgiven. It's actually a relief, boyfriend. You're not perfect. A two year, kinky relationship with your babysitter, which you forgot to discontinue after we become a couple... that's rather imperfect."

He laughs a bit. "Thanks? Really? I was coming across as perfect?"

"You were batting one hundred in my book. It was freaking me out."

"You're still batting one hundred in my book. Maybe one hundred and five, after forgiving my indiscretion."

"Just stick around. The night is young."

If anything, after the babysitter incident, we became even closer. We exchanged keys. I started spending the night and spending more time with Max. My favorite evenings included him reading a book, not one of his, for Max and I. He still had this power, of washing away my worries with his stories. We became good, and then very good, at pleasing each other in bed. I asked him to come for the first shooting session of the new lingerie line. It was not an idle invitation. For a sexy lingerie line, the model has to project desire. I could do it by thinking of him, but it works better with him there. The photographer quickly caught onto our chemistry, and decided to try to put Lucas in the pictures. He loved the shoot. After the babysitter incident, I was sure he would. He surprised me by accepting and taking enthusiastic part in it. After the proofs went to Veronica, she called me.

"Who's the boy?"

"Lucas. My boyfriend."

"We loved the pictures of the two of you. Should we send him a modeling contract?"

"No. I took care of that. He's working for Storybook." I actually made him an equal partner on Storybook. I told him he was the inspiration for the whole project, and it was more than fitting that we would use pictures of the two of us to promote it. He was tickled by the idea of co-owning a lingerie design and marketing company, and by being my partner.

"You two were on fire."

"We usually are."

"We will be releasing after thanksgiving. Make sure he is at the show, preferably in those skinny jeans and no shirt, in the catwalk."

"I'll ask him."

We went trick-or-treating in a residential neighborhood in Queens, the three of us. I made us matching vampire costumes and did the make-up.

The funny thing is that the tabloids didn't catch up. I'm a fairly high profile New York celebrity, and, aside from a couple of pieces about my break up with Julian, nothing. We didn't attend any high profile events together, but we weren't hiding either.

On the Friday after Halloween, Rachel invited me to go out for drinks. Apparently Alice's divorce was finalized, and we were celebrating her newly single status. I was definitely owing her, because we had talked on the phone, but I hadn't seen her in a month.

The venue is a high-end bar, at the top floor of a midtown hotel. We arranged to arrive a little early, so we could catch up.

"You little slut! Where have you been hiding?"

I give her an innocent smile. "Lucas' bed?"

We both laugh. She hasn't met him yet, so I had some of the proofs of our shoot in my cell. Well, to be honest, I was using a particularly hot one as background. I don't mind bragging, if it's warranted.

I give her my phone, with a dozen photos on display.

"Holy shit. That's your boy toy?"

"Yup."

"Talk about a trade up. He looks like a young god. You look pretty nice too."

"Thanks."

"And quite a chemistry you two have. You're going to use these to promote your lingerie line?"

"Yup."

"You are awfully economical with your words."

"I don't know what to say. I'm head over heels in love with him and with his little boy. I've never felt even remotely like this. Ever. And he is crazy about me too. It's not the kind of state of mind you bring to a divorce party."

"You think there's a ring in the horizon?"

"I suspect he's thinking about it. He has to move slowly. He wants a mother for his son."

"And you want the job?"

"More than anything."

"Oh, boy. You are in trouble."

I giggle. "You betcha."

The others arrive, and I try to put a lid on the Hallmark stuff. We drink, and we dance a bit, and drink some more. A few hours later I'm fairly drunk. Not falling down drunk, but slurring and walking slowly kind of drunk. I catch a cab home, and find Julian waiting for me outside the building.

"Brooke." He is pretty drunk too.

"What are you doing here?"

"Brooke, I haven't seen you in a long time. I can't get you out of my head."

"We've been over that, buster. Get over it. I'm with someone else."

"The Thursday boy... I still don't know who he is." He begins to get closer. I back off a bit.

"It's still none of your business." All of a sudden he jumps forward, grabs me and starts kissing me. It takes me a second to react, and, when I do, I push him hard in the chest. He staggers back.

"What the fuck, Julian, what are you thinking?"

"I want you back."

He lunges at me again. This time I'm ready. I make a fist and let him have it, with everything I got. Right in the jaw. I'm a small woman, but I work out. Religiously. He goes right down, and I feel I did some damage to my knuckles. I walk right past him, into the building. I sit in my couch for about fifteen minutes, with a bag of frozen peas in my hand and I think of calling Lucas. But it's two in the morning, and that jerk is just not worth it.

I wake up the following morning with a pounding headache and a nasty pain in my hand. Events from the previous night slowly filter back into my awareness. "Shit." It's past eleven in the morning. I go to the kitchen, grab a tall glass of orange juice and two advils, and get under a hot shower. I dry my hair, get dressed on sweats and sneakers and decide to check my phone for messages. I'm surprised there are no calls from Lucas, but there are two missed calls from Rachel and a few calls from unknown numbers. I call Lucas, but it goes to voice mail, then I call Rachel. She picks up after a couple of rings.

"Brooke! Finally. What happened last night?"

"Julian's jaw had an encounter with my right fist. The fucker grabbed me and forced a kiss right in front of my building."

"Shit."

"What?"

"I'm sending you a picture. Check it out."

It's the cover of the Tattle, a local tabloid that sells everywhere. It shows a picture of Julian and I kissing. The headline "Baker and Davis back on". I'm sure the paparazzi turd saw the punch too, but they probably figured they could sell more rags this way. "I see. I'll talk to you later, Rach." Shit. I try Lucas again. Voicemail. Fuck, fuck. I run to Lucas building. Check the apartment. Lucas' phone is in the dining room table. Max' UNC teddy bear and his favorite blanket, gone. His toothbrush, Lucas' toothbrush. Gone. They are gone. I collapse.

It takes me half an hour to finally realize that I'm not going to lose them over a fucking lie. There's no way I'm letting that happen.

I ring the bell in Lucy's home. A man answers. "Is Lucy home?"

He starts to close the door. "I don't think.." I push the door and walk in "Lucy!" She gets out of a bedroom, her eyes puffy with tears. She screams. "You fucking whore! What are you doing here?"

"It's a lie, Lucy. It's a damn lie."

"What do you mean a lie? The picture doesn't lie."

"He attacked me. Five seconds after that picture was taken I punched him in the jaw so hard he went down. Look at my hand. Look!"

"She looks at my hand. Did the photographer see this?"

"He couldn't possibly have mistaken what happened with anything but an attack. It's a vicious lie, Lucy, just to sell newspapers."

She finally believes it. "Oh, Brooke. I'm so sorry." We embrace each other. "He was so hurt. He couldn't lift his head."

"Where are they? Where did they go?"

"He didn't tell me. I don't think he's coming back, Brooke. He told me he was giving me thirty days notice, plus an extra month as a bonus. I'm supposed to contact his agent if I need anything."

"You mean Lindsay? Do you know her?""

"Yes."

"Can you call her, tell her what I told you? Get her to meet me?"

"I can try."

She goes to her room, grabs her phone and dials one of her contacts.

"Lindsay? It's Lucy. Yes, Lucas' Lucy. Listen to me. Please, let me speak to the end. Brooke is here." I can hear the shouting from the other side. Lucy raises her voice. "Lindsay. Listen to me. It's a lie. It's all a lie." A second. "The guy attacked her. She punched him. Her hand is pretty hurt."

"Yes, I believe her." Another pause. "Ok." She extends me the phone. "She wants to talk to you."

"Brooke. You say it's a lie."

"Yes."

"Meet me at Lucas apartment in twenty minutes."

"Do you have a key?"

"Yes."

"I'll be waiting."

I walk down the stairs, and get back in Lucas apartment. I call my lawyer, and tell him the story. "I want options to nail those fuckers to the wall."

"We'll get in touch with Mr. Baker. If he corroborates your version, I'm pretty sure we can make them suffer. I need you to stop at an orthopedics facility to have your hand checked as soon as possible. We're going to need the medical report. I'll text you with the address of a good place in a few minutes."

"Thanks."

"It's my job, Miss Davis."

A few minutes later she comes in. Lindsay is a tall, pretty dark blonde, with a kind face and huge blue eyes. Of course, right now, her eyes look like ice cubes. "You're Brooke Davis."

"Yes."

"Tell me everything."

I tell her the whole story, from the night out with my friends, to my decision not to call Lucas at two in the morning. She delicately picks up my right hand and looks at it. Apparently, punching Julian was the best decision I've made in my life. She takes a copy of Tattle from her purse, and looks at the picture with narrowed eyes.

"If you look at it carefully, it does look like he is grabbing you. And you look like you're pulling away. Of course, I caught none of that when I just looked at the picture. Fuck. These tabloids..."

"I already called my lawyer. He's looking for options."

"Let me know."

"So, where are they?"

"I can't tell you that."

"What?"

"I'm his agent, Brooke. Following his instructions is a contractual obligation, and he didn't give me any space to exercise my own judgment. What I can do is send you to someone who can put you in touch with him, and can exercise her judgment."

"Who? His mother?"

"No. His sister-in-law Haley Scott."

"Why his sister-in-law? Why not his brother?"

"He never told you of Haley?"

"No."

"They've been best friends since they were five. There's nobody he trusts more." She picks up a piece of paper and writes an address. "Go to this place. She'll be expecting you."

"Thank you." I look at the paper. "Seattle?"

"Yes. Here is my card. Sent me a text when you know when you will arrive there."

"All right. Thanks."

I go home to pack a bag. Once there, I call an old friend, and ask him if his Lear is available. He says that I can have it for a week, for a modest price, plus fuel. I agree to his terms. I get the address for the orthopedics clinic, so I call a limo and leave.

At the clinic they say I have a hairline fracture in one of my knuckles and extensive bruising, consistent with a strong punch. They immobilize the affected finger, give me ibuprofen, and inform me they'll be sending their report to my lawyer. I ask for a copy of a preliminary report, and I'm told they'll be sending it to my phone in a few hours.

Finally I get to the private aviation terminal at La Guardia, where the Lear is fueled and waiting for me. I call Lindsay. "Hi. I'm ready to leave. I'll be getting there at midnight thirty New York time, eight-thirty local, and I'm going straight to the address you gave me."

"That's fine. I'll tell Haley, and I'll have a car waiting for you at the private aviation terminal in Seattle. Good luck, Brooke."

"Thank you."

I actually manage to take a nap and eat something during the flight. When I arrive in Seattle, I get a copy of the report on my hand in my phone book.

The car drops me off at a mansion, surrounded by a tall fence. I press the buzzer. "Hello?"

"This is Brooke Davis."

"Come right in."

I open the gate and walk up a pathway, rolling my little suitcase with my left hand. At the end of the path, standing by an open door, there is a short honey-blonde woman looking at me with a serious, intense countenance.

"Hi. I'm Brooke Davis, and you must be Haley Scott."

"Hello. Please come in." The house is really a mansion decorated in tasteful modern style. She walks to a living room to the side of the entrance, sits on a chair and bids me to sit near her on a sofa."

"Please tell me what you told Lindsay. A door opens and Lucas walks in. I can't believe in my eyes.

"Never mind, sis. I just talked to Linds." He turns to me. "She says Julian corroborated your story completely. She also said you dislocated his jaw. He is going to be eating through a straw for a couple of weeks."

"Good!"

He kneels in front of me. "I am so sorry, Pretty Girl. I should have talked to you first. I shouldn't have run."

I look into his eyes, and I see the relief and the leftover pain in them. "I would have done exactly the same thing in your shoes, my love. There is nothing to forgive. I've missed you two so much, these past hours. There was a moment there, in your empty apartment that I thought I had lost you. But then I realized there was no way that stupid lie would break us up.

"I agree. Thank you for believing in us."

"Thank you, Storyteller, for being who you are."

"Brooke. I'd like to take the opportunity, since I'm already kneeling here in front of you, and ask you a question."

"What do you want to ask?"

He brings out a little black box. My heart stops. It's a vintage ring, platinum, round cut stone with small stones around it. "I know it's too soon, but we both know this is right. Life is too short, and to full of uncertainty, so we must take hold of what matters to us, and never let go. I love you, Brooke Davis, with all my heart. I want to spend the rest of my life beside you. Will you marry me? Will you be Max' mother?"

There is only one possible answer to that question. I give him my biggest smile." Fuck, yes!"

THE END


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Some of my dear reviewers requested e glimpse of what happens to the Diva and the Storyteller after her "fuck, yes", so here it goes.

Epilogue

The light was uncomfortable in the eyes, and carrying around my baby bump in a packed TV studio was not exactly my notion of fun. At least he was as attentive as always, with a hand extended, helping me through the steps, and into the scenario.

"We are live in four, three, two one..."

"Welcome back to the Morning Show, with Ted Fallon. And here with us are Lucas and Brooke Scott. Welcome to the show."

Lucas answers for the two of us. "Hello, Ted. It's nice to be here."

"Brooke Scott, Victoria's Secret angel, fashion designer and owner of Clothes over Bros. So, Brooke, how far along are you?"

"Thank you Ted. Six months. Baby is due in September."

"I heard a rumor it's a girl."

"That's right Ted. We've just finished decorating the nursery, all pink with flowers and butterflies."

"We hear you got Keiko Takagi to decorate the new brownstone."

"We like his work, Ted. It's edgy, but he can keep the family touch we want."

"If you check out B. Davis next month, you'll see what we did with the place. It's pretty cool."

"How many more babies you guys want?"

"Oh, we have a difficult disagreement there. I want eight, but Brooke wants ten. We've spent whole nights arguing about that. Maybe we will compromise and go for nine."

"That's great guys. Recently, People magazine named you two the sexiest couple in the world. What do you guys think about that."

"For me, it's all photoshop, I'm just getting wrinkly in my old age. Of course, my wife is still as sexy as ever."

"He's been trying to persuade me to do a Dream of You spread with the baby bump. I think he just convinced me. We'll see what People thinks of that."

"I think you'll look hot."

"So do I."

I smile at camera. "It's a cautionary visual. See, that's what you actually get when you use naughty underwear. Never mind the smoldering blonde boy with his hand in my bump."

."About yor new book, Penny in the Zoo. Is it true that Penny is based on your wife?"

Lucas holds up a copy of the book, with a large drawing of the brunette main character. "You tell me."

"They look very similar."

"Well, I confess. Penny is inspired in Brooke."

"It's the story of a little girl, whose parents where too busy to take care of her, and she ends up raised by the animals in the Central Park Zoo."

I give Lucas my silly grin. "My favorite character is the little boy that reads stories to her. Her little storyteller."

Max runs into the studio, and lands in my lap. He outgrew his shyness, and he loved the idea of appearing on television. "Hi mom, dad, Ted."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Maxwell Scott."

"So, Max, are you looking forward to becoming a big brother?"

"I'm dying to meet my little sister, Ted." He looks at Lucas. "I'm not so sure about the other nine, though." He looks at me. "Maybe we could have nine puppies, instead."

"We'll talk about it when we get home."

"But mom!"

"Run along, baby boy." He leaves the studio. "

"Maxwell Scott."

"We are running out of time, so I have one last question. Your first anniversary is coming up. Any plans to celebrate?"

"Of course."

"Care to share?"

I smile at Lucas. "Hire a babysitter and spend the day in our bed."

"Great plan, pretty girl. I'll buy the whipped cream."

"Thank you for coming here. Ladies and gentlemen, Lucas and Brooke Scott."

THE END, AGAIN.


End file.
